


cover me

by cuecard



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: A little bit of angst, F/F, a lot of pining, a lot of soft moments, both of them are idiots, they kinda fake date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuecard/pseuds/cuecard
Summary: They are both idiots. That's it, that's the story. But they get there in the end.
Relationships: Charlotte/Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox
Comments: 30
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago for someone and have been bugged to publish it since... I have unfortunately bowed to gentle peer pressure. 
> 
> (Also, Ron, I hope you enjoy it!)
> 
> Feel free to come talk to me on Tumblr: borntorunnn

**bruce springsteen; cover me**   
  
_hold me in your arms, let's let our love blind us cover me, shut the door and cover me, well I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me...  
_

* * *

“You really leavin’ me so early on a Saturday mornin’?”  
  
Charlotte stops in the middle of pulling her top over her head, her muscles taut under the weight of the gaze currently on her shoulders, before pulling the fabric the rest of the way down and turning around to the source of the voice.  
  
This right here is the part that Charlotte dislikes the most and she knows that it is stupid because she made this damn rule all by herself.  
  
It doesn’t mean she has to like it though.  
  
And it’s not as if she hasn’t left without saying anything before because she has – several times at that, not that that makes it any better or anything – but it seems to get worse for some reason, a reason she doesn’t really want to dwell on too much because that would mean dwelling on this whole situation too much and that’s a huge no, no.  
  
Becky is pretty in the morning, even with her wild hair and smudged make up from the night before. There is a part of Charlotte that actually wants to go rogue and she considers turning back and reaching out to tuck some hair behind Becky’s ear and kiss her goodbye, but then she considers how that might look and what that might mean and she decides against it. Becky bends her knees and brings them towards her chest, her hair falling around her shoulders and neck, the orange a stark contrast against the white sheet that’s bunched around her.  
  
They are friends - nothing more and nothing less – just with added benefits every now and then, at least that’s what she tells herself. The problem is, however, is that this situation is beginning to spiral a little bit out of control. Sometimes it feels like things between her and Becky spin around faster and faster, threatening to go completely awry whilst throwing her own rules out the window.  
  
And sometimes she is utterly tempted to let that happen because why the hell not?  
  
But no, she needs to get back in control of things.  
  
“Becky, listen, if you… If you don’t want to do this anymore - ”  
  
She has no idea why these words are even coming out of her mouth right now because if Becky doesn’t want to do this anymore then she’s not sure what the hell she’s supposed to say to that.

What can you say to it really?  
  
“Charlotte, how many times?” Becky cuts her off with a laugh; it’s a girlish type giggle that some how sounds strange coming from her, fake even. “I’m good. Anyway, we both know what this is and isn’t, right? We’re good.” Becky waves her off as if telling Charlotte to just do what she’s going to do and leave.  
  
Charlotte finds herself smiling then and it is the most genuine smile that she can muster given the circumstances, and she even allows herself to lean forward and press a kiss to Becky’s cheek. It’s the little displays of affection like this that has her questioning things. There is no real need for her to do it and yet here she is, kissing Becky on the cheek like it means something, and in a way Charlotte knows that it definitely does, somewhere.  
  
Initially this ‘thing’ between them happened once every few months, but now it happens so frequently that it is almost a familiar routine for them. Charlotte knows where certain things are in Becky’s apartment and knows which side of the bed Becky prefers to sleep on and knows that when you step on a specific part of the bedroom floor it creaks underneath your feet like it’s about to bend and break.  
  
Bayley has asked Charlotte a million times – okay, not literally a million but probably close – why her and Becky just don’t go exclusive, whatever the fuck that means these days and she finds that she doesn’t really have a solid answer. Sure, she can try and mislead Bayley with some spineless lie that she is keeping her options open or that she doesn’t want tied down with some heavy relationship right now but that’s a crock of shit and her and Bayley both know it.  
  
Bayley had told her then that sometimes you have to have the guts to admit what you want and, maybe more importantly, who you want and that it is okay to be afraid of that because…  
  
No, the truth is that Charlotte is afraid of what it might mean for them because as soon as you cross that relationship line it’s very difficult to go back, if you even can, especially if things go to shit. And she figures that it is better having Becky in her life like this than not at all because if they crashed and burned, Charlotte is pretty sure she wouldn’t know what to do without Becky.  
  
Better safe than sorry, right?  
  
They’d met three years ago when Charlotte was twenty-five, Becky a year younger and they had hit it off immediately. But somewhere along the line something had changed between them and the line that Charlotte used to walk easily along with Becky has become a high-rise tight rope that is extremely easy to slip from, the only problem being that the netting underneath the tight rope is very much safe and secure which keeps Charlotte coming back time and time again for even more.  
  
The first time they had ended up in bed together Charlotte had chalked it up to too much alcohol and not enough sleep, but when it happened for the second time and then the third time she realised that that excuse didn’t really wash for either of them.  
  
And here she is, almost a year and a half after the first time, still trying to figure out if any sane excuse can possibly fit why they are still doing this, except the obvious answers, because she doesn’t want to hear them thank you very much.  
  
“I’ll see you again tonight though?” Becky asks. “I know you aren’t working and neither am I, so.”  
  
Becky’s right and Charlotte knows it, she’ll be back in this exact situation again tomorrow morning wondering what the fuck she is doing with her life, and by that she means what the fuck she is doing with Becky. “You’re annoying and I don’t like you right now.”  
  
“I know,” Becky says, and then adds, “I find that really attractive on you though.”  
  


*****  
  


Becky’s running late.  
  
That’s not unusual but it is annoying.  
  
Sasha and Bayley are running late too.  
  
That’s also not unusual but Charlotte refuses to think about the reason why they are late when she has inadvertently caught the live show on more than one occasion.  
  
And of course while they are all running late, and Charlotte is sitting alone, the unthinkable happens. The woman Charlotte has been trying to dodge at the gym appears at the opposite side of the bar. She has already told Steph that she’s not interested in the gentlest of ways but the message hasn’t sunk in because Steph still shows up for every session Charlotte takes and openly flirts with her in front of everyone else.  
  
What more is it going to take?  
  
And it’s not as if Charlotte can duck behind other people at the bar when she’s literally taller than most of the people around her. Maybe she can just leave? Down her drink and go, and tell the others to meet her somewhere else. It sounds like a solid enough plan because it can’t be a silly coincidence that Steph is here now too, she probably heard Charlotte talking on the phone with Becky earlier today.  
  
There’s a small group of guys to her right who look like they are about to leave and that can be her way out too. She dips her head and focuses on her drink until she hears the tell tale noise of jackets being lifted and chairs being scraped away from a table.  
  
When they all move so does Charlotte. It’s like a scene from a poor comedy movie and she can practically hear the slapstick music that would be playing in the background.  
  
She tries to move quickly so that she’s on the far side of the group and tucked away mostly out of view. She’s still taller than a few of the guys so she finds herself slightly hunched over and honestly, if this was an undercover operation she would be absolutely fucked. One of the guys who belong to the group shoots her a weird look but she pretends not to see that either, as long as she keeps moving she will be just fine.  
  
Steph is moving now too and heading towards the bar, Charlotte can see her from the corner of her eye. Charlotte figures she’s got about ten big strides to go before she is free but then a move she doesn’t account for happens. Someone pushes their chair out from their table right in front of Charlotte and as the rest of the group Charlotte is following walk past she comes to a juddering halt to stop herself from crashing straight into the person.  
  
“Shit,” she finds herself saying.  
  
She tries to turn back around and finds herself colliding with someone else now and could this plan be going any worse? Charlotte really doesn’t think so.  
  
“Becky?” Charlotte says immediately. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I could ask you the same thing,” Becky answers instantly. “Why the hell are you acting like that? I just stood and watched you stalking some group of men.”  
  
“How did you get in here?”  
  
“Uh, the side door.” Becky says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world and as Charlotte peers over her shoulder, sure enough there’s a door tucked away just behind a booth. She feels her face going red.  
  
Becky’s wearing Charlotte’s favourite leather jacket and her fingers reach out and run over the collar of Becky’s shirt almost automatically, it’s white and has tiny navy swallow birds on it. The fabric is fresh and smart under her fingers and Charlotte knows that it’s new. “This suits you.”  
  
“Yeah. Are you gonna to tell me what you were doing?”  
  
Charlotte’s focus comes back and she remembers why she hadn’t been paying attention in the first place. She looks back over her shoulder to see Steph ordering a drink and maybe she hasn’t seen all the commotion Charlotte has made after all. Charlotte’s smile turns into a frown and she watches as Becky’s face mirrors her own.  
  
“Charlotte?”  
  
“That woman at the bar,” Charlotte says, and nudges her head back, “that’s the woman I was telling you about from the gym. I think she heard me talking to you earlier and showed up here to bump into me. I was trying to get out of here before she spotted me.”  
  
“Do you need me to roll up my sleeves?” Becky asks, and she makes a show of pinching the wrist of her leather jacket and pulling it up towards her elbow. “Cause I can fight.”  
  
Charlotte shakes her head and she can’t help but smile, and Becky really likes that smile. “No but thank you for the offer. Do you think we can just leave and meet Sasha and Bayley somewhere else?”  
  
Before Becky can answer her, Charlotte sees a look flit across Becky’s face and she internally groans because she can guess what that look means. “She’s finally spotted me hasn’t she?”  
  
“Oh yeah.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Do you think she’d go away if she thought you were with me?” Becky asks.  
  
Charlotte feels her face knit together in a confused sort of way until Becky’s fingertips brush against the fleshy part of her palm. She unfurls her fingers and lets Becky’s slip around hers until she can feel the warmth of Becky’s palm against her own.  
  
“I guess,” Charlotte says, and her words are quiet, almost carried away by the rest of the noise in the bar. There’s an odd feeling in her chest but she tries not to fixate on it too much because you’re better off just treating hesitation like seasickness. If you feel it in your stomach just look forward and focus on what is ahead of you.  
  
“Alright, go with it then,” Becky murmurs.  
  
Charlotte turns and catches Steph’s eye, and she looks just as surprised as Charlotte feels. But then she focuses back on Becky and the grip that’s currently on her hand, and then Becky is leaning up slightly to press a kiss onto her cheek and Charlotte’s surrounded by how Becky smells: achingly familiar and gorgeous.  
  
“This alright?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Okay, guess you’re with me now.”  
  
“Steph?” Charlotte says when she turns around, as if she’s just noticed the other woman for the first time. “I didn’t know you came here?”  
  
Becky moves so that her shoulder is pressed against Charlotte’s own and their hands are still linked together. Steph looks like she’s just been caught snooping on something she shouldn’t have been and in a roundabout way it is probably true.  
  
“Steph from the gym?” Becky asks with a look up at Charlotte and Charlotte is impressed by how authentic Becky’s question sounds as she nods her confirmation.  
  
“The very one,” Charlotte answers, and Becky can hear a nervous tilt to her friend’s voice for whatever reason. “This is Becky… my girlfriend,” Charlotte tacks on quickly at the end.  
  
“Oh. Girlfriend?” Steph says as she looks down at their tangled hands, and then her eyes are flitting back upwards as if she is trying to find a lie between them both.  
  
“Girlfriend,” Becky states, “that’s me. Do you want a drink, babe?”  
  
“Yeah. That would be great.”  
  
Becky doesn’t wait for any sort of reply, she just tugs on Charlotte’s hand and Charlotte finds her feet moving in the direction that Becky wants her to. She watches the shock register across Steph’s face and then she finds herself grinning. She has a feeling Steph won’t be bothering her again any time soon.  
  
Becky moves them to the furthest end of the bar and she drops Charlotte’s hand as she leans her elbows onto the wooden counter. Charlotte can imagine the skin and muscle underneath Becky’s jacket and shirt; can pin point where there’s a small cluster of freckles at the base of Becky’s spine; and she knows that there’s a red mark at Becky’s hip that she left herself.  
  
Then Becky’s turning and smiling at her and it swirls around Charlotte’s chest like some sort of mini storm.  
  
“That smile,” Charlotte says quietly, “that one right there?”  
  
“What about it?”  
  
“I’ve known you for three years. You only smile like that for me.”  
  
“I only do a lot of things for you, Charlotte.”  
  
Charlotte can appreciate an attractive person the same as everyone else but being attractive doesn’t particularly impress her like it used to. Being smart impresses her; being funny impresses her; being witty impresses her and probably most of all, being a good person impresses her.  
  
And Becky is a good person - one of the best actually.  
  
And Charlotte, despite her denial, maybe wants Becky more than any friend or no strings fuck buddy should.  
  
_Shit_.  
  


*****  
  


Charlotte stands at the front door of her mother’s house holding so many grocery bags that she can’t feel the tips of her fingers anymore. Using her elbow, she tries to open the door and ends up bumping her shoulder into the glass window pane. She edges back and lifts her leg so that she can press her foot against the handle but the door still doesn’t move. Finally, she gives up and leans forward like some sort of moron and bangs the door with her forehead.  
  
Through the paned glass she watches her mother making her way down the hall. She opens the door with a usual smile. “Why didn’t you make two trips?”  
  
Charlotte bends slightly so that her mom can kiss her on the cheek. She’s still got the grocery bags scooped up into her fingers, the circulation all but cut off now.

“What’s going on?” she asks, thinking her mother looks a little bit unwell.  
  
“Rachelle,” her mom answers and Charlotte bites back a laugh. Her aunt Rachelle is the only person Charlotte knows who travels around with her own stacked stock of alcohol.  
  
“Vodka?” Charlotte asks.  
  
Her mom whispers, “Rum,” in the same way she might say “heart attack.”  
  
Charlotte cringes in sympathy. “How long is she planning on staying?”  
  
“She hasn’t said yet. But she brought an invitation for you.”  
  
“An invitation? An invitation for - ”  
  
“Just go on in,” her mum interrupts, indicating to the kitchen. “I’ll follow.”  
  
Charlotte attempts to shift the bags in her hands before walking down the hallway towards the kitchen, glancing at the photos that adorn the walls. No one can go from the front door to the kitchen without getting a first hand view of the Flair children’s formative years.  
  
Reid, of course, looks handsome and well put together in all of them. Charlotte, though, isn’t so lucky. There’s a particularly awful photo of her at a summer camp when she was around 10 years old that she would like to rip clean off the wall if her mom would let her away with it.  
  
“Sweetheart!” Rachelle shouts, throwing her arms open wide as Charlotte enters the kitchen. “Look at you!” she says, as if it’s some type of lovely compliment – it isn’t and Charlotte knows it.  
  
She had literally rolled out of Becky’s bed just over an hour ago and she hasn’t even bothered to run a brush through her hair. Given their arrangement, the clothes she’s wearing today are the same ones as yesterday too – it’s kind of a shambles. Rachelle, on the other hand, is wearing a vintage type dress that has probably cost a small fortune; diamond earrings sparkle in the lobe of her ears and there are various rings on various fingers. Her hair and make up are perfect and she looks stunning even in the early afternoon of Sunday.  
  
“Sorry I haven’t been around sooner.”  
  
“Ah. Forget about it.” Her aunt waves off her apology as she sits down. “Since when do you do your mother’s shopping?”  
  
“Since she can’t get out of the house because she’s trying to entertain you.” Charlotte puts the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and tries to massage the circulation back into her hands.  
  
“I’m easily pleased, Charlotte, you know that. It’s your mother that needs to venture out more.”  
  
“With you and rum?”  
  
Rachelle grins. “She can’t hold her alcohol, I still say that’s the only reason she married your father.” Charlotte groans and Rachelle carries on, “Anyway, what is happening in your life?”  
  
“Not much that would interest you,” Charlotte tells her, lifting a loaf of bread out of one of the bags. “Unless health and fitness is now your thing?”  
  
“I guess having a routine can be good for people,” Rachelle says, picking up an apple from the fruit bowl and biting a large chunk out of it.  
  
“I guess, yeah.”  
  
“Really good.”  
  
“Yep,” Charlotte answers, knowing full well where this conversation is heading.  
  
Her aunt Rachelle is well into her fifties but as far as Charlotte knows, she’s never been sick a day in her life. Maybe there is something about smoking like a chimney and drinking until dawn breaks after all.  
  
Her mom, her saviour as usual, moves the milk to the other side of the shelf in the fridge and then asks, “What time did you get home last night?”  
  
“More like this morning,” Rachelle mutters under her breath and despite the fact that she is a fully fledged adult, who can do whatever the hell she wants really, Charlotte can feel her cheeks starting to turn a darker shade of pink. “Here, before I forget.” Her aunt turns and starts rummaging in her purse before revealing a light pink envelope and handing it over to Charlotte.  
  
There seems to be a slight bump in the middle of the envelope that catches on the paper as Charlotte opens it. She finds herself staring at block capital letters: Jennifer and Kenneth.  
  
“I told her they were too fancy,” Rachelle says, “but she wouldn’t listen.”  
  
It is an invitation to her cousin’s wedding. Perfectly simple and elegant, printed on what looks like expensive card. The whole package is held together by a pretty bow with a tiny jewel in the middle of it, which explains the bump in the envelope.  
  
Untying the bow, Charlotte finds that the invitation is more complicated than she first thought and it is spread out over a couple of smaller cards. The first part with their names she’s already seen, but there’s a smaller card after that addressed directly to Charlotte _and guest _with all the important information on it_. _The third sheet is a response card that is in the shape of a red love heart, which for some reason, Charlotte finds herself grimacing at.  
  
“Is there a reason the wedding is so soon?” Charlotte finds herself asking. “Haven’t they only been dating for like a year?”  
  
Jennifer and Kenneth have been dating for less time than Charlotte has been sleeping with one of her best friend’s and honestly, what’s the fucking deal with that?  
  
“Oh, honey,” Rachelle laughs. “You’re living in the wrong time if you think anyone gives a damn about that these days. You love who you love and that’s it, my daughter is no different. That’s the main reason I got married the first time.”  
  
“And conveniently found a man who would pay for it all,” Charlotte’s mom says from behind the fridge door.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Rachelle adds, “lots of people go to events solo Charlotte.”  
  
Charlotte is pretty sure she feels something explode in her head – maybe a vessel that supplies the blood flow to the linguistic part of her brain, because all she can do is open and close her mouth without any words coming out.  
  
“Who said I’m not dating anyone?” Charlotte asks eventually.  
  
“Are you?” It’s her mom this time with the question and a perfectly raised eyebrow to go with it.  
  
Charlotte clears her throat and it feels like her tongue has swollen to twice its size. “No, I mean… it’s not like - ”  
  
“So that’s a yes then,” Rachelle says simply. “Who is it?”  
  
Charlotte is about to panic. She tries to feel like she is not in some sort of trouble – but she is, she totally is – and the sensation settles in her stomach like some type of anchor that’s falling through the ocean and heading straight for the sea bed and taking her under with it.  
  
There’s a beat of silence, her mom and aunt exchanging a look that Charlotte’s all too familiar with. They have her boxed into the corner and they are going for the knock out.  
  
“It’s Becky,” Charlotte finds herself saying. Sometimes you need to either go big or go home.  
  
“Becky? Your friend Becky with the bright orange hair? That Becky?” Her mom asks.  
  
“Yes, mom. That Becky. What other Becky do you know in my life?” Her words hold a blend of embarrassment and frustration, the latter caused by the former. And oh fuck, she’s really in the shit now.  
  
“Orange hair? She sounds wild,” Rachelle says, “bring her to the wedding with you.”  
  
“She’s a lovely girl.” Charlotte finds her mom smiling at her after she says that and despite the lunacy of the situation, it makes Charlotte smile a little bit too.  
  


*****  
  


“Bayley, I think I’ve done something stupid,” Charlotte says as Bayley walks through her front door with a six pack of beer tucked under her arm. It’s not exactly how the conversation should start but Charlotte’s not sure how this conversation could go any other way anyway.  
  
“What kind of stupid are we talking about? Is it your job?”  
  
Charlotte shakes her head and lets out a resigned and weary sigh.  
  
“Becky?”  
  
When Charlotte nods at that Bayley takes her jacket off and drapes it over the kitchen table chair before grabbing a bottle opener from the kitchen and bringing the beer over to the couch where Charlotte is sitting. She has that sinking feeling that this conversation will probably be problematic.  
  
“Okay, what happened?”  
  
“Well, basically, I told my mom and my aunt I’m dating Becky.” She can still barely believe the words herself but she had said them, clear as day and with shocking confidence.  
  
“What?” Bayley’s eyes quickly widen and she takes a drink of her beer because she’s been here for the last three years. She has witnessed first hand how Charlotte and Becky are around each other and despite her best attempts to bang their heads together so that they will see sense, it has never really worked. “You two are together now? Wow. About time!”  
  
“Well… no,” Charlotte eventually replies, her eyes on the beer bottle label that she’s scribbling at with her thumb nail. “I got an invite to my cousin’s wedding and my aunt was talking about how people go solo to these things all the time and it just sort of came out. I can’t go solo, Bayley.”  
  
“Oh lord,” Bayley shakes her head quickly. “Does Becky know?”  
  
“No. I came home and moped around here because how pathetic is my life?”  
  
“Well you better tell her. I mean, maybe this is what you both need I guess.”  
  
“Don’t start, Bayley.”  
  
“Can you remember when I liked Sasha and was too afraid to tell her? _You _were the one who encouraged me to do it.”  
  
“That’s different,” Charlotte argues as she takes a gulp of the bitter liquid. Bayley’s beer choices really do suck. “You guys are meant for each other and all that clichéd crap.”  
  
“Are you freakin’ kidding me right now?” Bayley asks, and there’s a look in her eyes that makes Charlotte skin itch.  
  
“No?”  
  
Bayley puts her bottle onto the table before she throws herself back onto Charlotte’s couch so that she is facing the ceiling. “Just tell Becky tomorrow. I can’t fucking believe you two.”  
  


*****  
  


Surprises are, by nature, a bit of a shock to the system.  
  
A bolt from the blue, if you like.  
  
Becky isn’t really sure how she feels about surprises these days. On the one hand, the idea of something new is quite refreshing. On the other hand, however, most of the surprises that she’s been the recipient of in her twenty odd years of life have left her with a bit of a sour taste in her mouth about the whole idea of surprises.  
  
Like that time when she was a kid and her parents, _surprise, _hired some scary ass puppeteer that resembled something from a horror movie for her birthday. The whole thing was more terrifying than exciting.

Or that time when she was fifteen, when she’d come home early from her friends, and, _surprise, _found her parents in a seriously compromising position. That wasn’t a great surprise at all. Horrifically embarrassing actually. The kind of surprise that haunts you in your sleep and makes you never want to close your eyes again because the image is burned into your very soul for all the wrong reasons.  
  
Or there was that time when she was eighteen, when she’d gotten in with the wrong crowd and they had thought that piercing their own ears with a sterile needle and ice cubes was a good idea and very cool, excuse the pun. Well, _surprise, _it wasn’t a good idea at all.  
  
Or maybe it was that time that she’d met Charlotte and became friends with her, and, _surprise, _ended up in a muddled puddle of feelings that she’s ankle deep in, and if she isn’t careful it’ll be knee deep before long.  
  
Hell, who is she kidding? She is wading knee deep and fucking sinking.  
  
So yeah, surprises and Becky don’t particularly see eye to eye.  
  
But Becky is surprised right now. She’s laying flat on her back on top of a car creeper, half submerged underneath a Mercedes that she’s currently servicing and she’s surprised, and not by the car and not in a way that she’s used to.  
  
This time the surprise is more confusing than anything else. She really can’t figure out what the right word for it is because her mind is going a million miles an hour and… nah, she can’t think of the right word or phrase to describe this.  
  
Charlotte is currently standing over her, looking downwards, so that she’s upside down to Becky with a look on her face that still lets Becky know that she’s being serious.  
  
“What?” Becky mutters.  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
Becky pushes with her feet and finds herself rolling backwards from underneath the car, the wrench she’s holding sort of clatters against the concrete floor sending little shockwaves of sound around the garage.  
  
Charlotte watches as Becky reaches a grimy hand out and she leans down to grab it, pulling gently so that Becky gets back onto her feet without any issues. Despite the nature of her work, Becky’s hands are always smooth and Charlotte knows first hand the practical use they serve. The navy jumpsuit Becky is wearing is horribly stained with oil and God knows what else but it’s pulled into a knot around her waist so it’s her plain white t-shirt that is suffering the grief of her work today. Her hair is pulled back into a loose sort of braid and there’s even oil on her chin and neck.  
  
“Oh, I heard you,” Becky says, “I just didn’t understand you.”  
  
And that’s strange in itself because Becky has known Charlotte for three years and this is probably the first time she hasn’t understood what Charlotte is on about. She’s always been oddly in tune with Charlotte’s feelings or intentions, since the very start but she doesn’t really know what is going on right now.  
  
“I need you,” Charlotte says slowly, highlighting every word with an animated hand gesture, “to be my girlfriend… again. Please.”  
  
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Becky replies with a quick shake of her head.  
  
“It’s not…” Charlotte rubs her palm against her forehead. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”  
  
“I know that,” Becky bites back, and there’s more venom behind her words than she’d been expecting. Where the hell did that come from?

“I kind of told my aunt and my mom that I’ve been… dating,” Charlotte winces as she speaks the words, a bit like how Becky winces whenever someone touches the tools on her workbench or tries to lecture her about cars as if she’s some sort of idiot. “And that person is invited to my cousin’s wedding with me.”  
  
“So, let me get this straight,” Becky says as she connects the dots in her head. It’s a thing she has to do with Charlotte at times because sometimes Charlotte tends to paint a simple picture of things without delivering the heavy blow. “You need me to be your girlfriend to a weddin’ cause you told people you are dating when you aren’t… and that person is me?”  
  
“It just came out!” Charlotte replies and her voice is all high pitched and weird in a manner that Becky isn’t really familiar with. “I don’t know where it came from.”  
  
“Get Sasha to do it.”  
  
“I already told them it was you,” Charlotte says, face pinched in an unimpressed frown. “My mom’s aware of who you are Becky.”  
  
“No shit. I don’t wanna do this. I hate weddings, y’know that.”  
  
“There will be free booze.”  
  
Becky seems to be gauging whether or not there is a way she can get out of this without hurting Charlotte’s feelings in any way. Charlotte reaches out and puts her hand on Becky’s arm. “Please, I need this favour. If I show up myself I’ll never hear the end of it from my aunt and then everyone else too.”  
  
Becky knows that’s true because Becky has been told about Charlotte’s family and they sound, well, interesting is a nice way of putting it.  
  
“Lots of people go solo to weddings, Charlotte.”  
  
Charlotte narrows the space between them, moving her hand to Becky’s shoulder. She can feel the hard muscle beneath her white t-shirt that is stained with grease and oil, and the heat from Becky’s skin pushes through beyond the fabric. She’s a few inches taller than Becky so she finds herself looking downwards and in the bright light of the garage, Becky’s eyes look impossibly polished and she has delicate eyelashes, dark and soft.

  
Becky’s silent, her eyes tracing back and forth across Charlotte’s face, lingering on her mouth, before meeting her gaze again. This is a bad idea for her, Becky can feel it in her gut. Instincts are there to be trusted after all. If she feels something is wrong then something is likely wrong. It is as simple as that.  
  
And yet, the next words that come out of her mouth are completely at odds with her gut warning.  
  
“Alright, I’ll do it.”  
  
“You will?” Charlotte asks, then turns when a man in a suit comes into the garage with a briefcase and a newspaper tucked under his arm. He’s a banker or lawyer for sure, only someone of those professions could look as smug and insufferable.  
  
“Yeah,” Becky grumbles, eyeing the guy behind Charlotte. “But only cause of the free booze.”  
  
“Thank you.” Charlotte takes Becky’s hand in her own and squeezes before she presses a fleeting kiss to Becky’s cheek. “See you tonight, love!” Charlotte calls as she leaves, loud enough so that the man in the suit is well aware of its implications.  
  
Becky throws a smile in Charlotte’s direction before she disappears out of view, and Becky is left wondering, first, what the fuck has she gotten herself into and, second, how the fuck is she going to survive it?  
  


*****  
  


It’s almost nine in the evening when Becky enters the garage. The street is pretty quiet and has almost settled into a safe silence. The nervous energy has raged around her body all day, prompting her to fix a broken door hinge, rearrange some of the furniture in her living room and tidy out her kitchen cupboards after work.  
  
She switches on a playlist from her phone and the opening notes of The Eagles’ classic ‘_Hotel California’_ start easing their way into the garage with her. To her right is the green and black motorcycle, parked into its own space, just waiting for their next adventure together.  
  
For a second Becky forgets about everything and visualizes herself pressing forward on the body of the bike, her stomach against the gas tank, her thighs clutched around the seat, turning the bike into a series of sharp turns; her knees a few inches off the ground. The co ordination of her hands and feet to control the vehicle takes all of her concentration and removes everything else from her head.  
  
Riding the bike is like breaking in a spirited thoroughbred horse. It’s a question of control and patience, of calming a bit of a rebel who wants to control you.  
  
The restoration of the 1970 Corvette that sits close to the bike is a labour of love, a testament to her father who had encouraged her love of cars way back when she was young.  
  
She was eleven when her fascination with cars and bikes began.  
  
While girls her own age were too busy being silly about boys she was interested in her dad restoring an old motorbike in the garage. Initially she sat back, just watching and her dad explained what he was doing.  
  
Each day she had moved closer towards her dad’s work station until eventually she was sitting right next to him, crossed legged with oil on her nose and cheeks. If her dad was in the garage then so was Becky.  
  
Eventually Becky had started asking questions about the mechanics of the machine, eager to know how it all got put together. Her dad initially showed her drawings and diagrams before he demonstrated how to do it. Her mom would have to drag them from the garage to eat.  
  
After a few months, her dad had turned to her and said: “Okay, B, you’ve watched me do it a hundred times. It’s your turn. Do you think you could fit that nut and washer into the exhaust housing?”  
  
He had moved out of Becky’s way and with that first turn of the wrench her passion had been born.  
  
The current restoration of the Corvette is an emotional but solo journey that bathes her spirit. In this one room, the stresses of every day life eases out of her muscles and leaves her relaxed and content, both physically and mentally.  
  
Here, she is simply happy.  
  
She crosses her legs and begins to analyse the pieces that have taken her a few months to collect. The parts will all fit together, it is just a case of figuring out how. Within the overall challenge of restoring a classic car comes the smaller tasks; twenty minutes later she has the washers, valves, tubes and pistons all grouped together. She opens the diagram that she hopes will help her meet the challenge.  
  
Usually, the process jumps off the paper like a 3D hologram. Her brain is able to see the most logical starting point and she will start from there but tonight, for some reason, the instructions stay a puzzle of numbers and arrows and shapes.  
  
Becky uncrosses her legs and leans back against the brick wall. Like a bomb attached to a ticking timer, there is probably never a good time to open her feelings for Charlotte, no matter how much of an unsettling effect it has on her.  
  
Feelings can crop up in the most unexpected times with the most unexpected people and that’s a basic fact, Becky knows that. The most important thing though is that you have to be honest with yourself and however you feel because if you don’t it leads to all sorts of fucking trouble further down the road.  
  
Feelings can end up like weeds, mercilessly pushing their way up through concrete and not budging no matter how you try to eradicate them; they are there and they are staying, and God help you trying to get rid of them.  
  
But this want for Charlotte lives inside of Becky now, it seems to grow in the earth of her soul; maybe it is now wild and overgrown, probably untamed too. Becky is a field full of sunflowers dancing beneath a sky that never seems to want to get any closer to her, no matter how much she tries to demand the attention, but Charlotte will still be her sky tonight.  
  
Charlotte is her sky every night these days.  
  
The current situation brings an ache to her throat and she closes her eyes.  
  
This thing between her and Charlotte was never supposed to be anything, really. A one off. An anomaly. Something they could both brush off but then something had changed and Becky still can’t really pin point when but it did and it still is changing.

  
The thought of being Charlotte’s girlfriend makes her stomach lurch. But the thought of being Charlotte’s _fake _girlfriend makes everything about this whole situation feel wrong and tainted, and when her stomach lurches again it is not in the pleasant way.  
  
And the most frustrating thing is that she knows Charlotte feels something for her. Becky can hear it in the way Charlotte laughs at her jokes, or pushes the hair away from Becky’s face in the morning, or tells Becky things that don’t really matter but she tells Becky them anyway because she knows Becky always listens fully.  
  
Becky knows that Charlotte feels something and Charlotte knows that Becky feels something… but they just don’t talk about it. Out of sight and out of mind by all accounts.  
  
They had a no feelings plan for God sake’s. A mutual agreement. A no strings attached arrangement. But that’s the thing, plans and reality are very different ideals. Plans are crisp and easy to follow whereas reality is always, always messy.

  
The sound of knuckles rapping against the metal door of the garage jars Becky back into the present, and she wipes quickly at her cheeks that are stained with tears. Pushing up off the wall, she pads to the door, leaning down to open the door outwards, only lifting it high enough so that the person on the other side can slip underneath.  
  
“I don’t know how you can work in here. It smells gross.”  
  
“Thanks, Sasha. I know I can always count on you.”  
  
Sasha uses the sleeve of her shirt to wipe across her nose as if that’s going to magically take the permanent smell of oil and grease and metal away from her. She gives Becky the same pointed look she always does when she comes into the garage.  
  
“I hear you got a girlfriend.”  
  
“Wow, news travels fast around here.”  
  
“What are you doing, Becky?”  
  
Becky doesn’t know. She stares silently at the wall, scuffing her sneaker across the floor.  
  
“I’m helping my friend out. _Our_ friend even.”  
  
Becky takes a few steps back so she’s pressed against the wall and then she lowers herself down slowly before bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Sasha follows her shortly afterwards, grimacing in disgust at the concrete floor before finally settling down next to Becky and stretching her legs out flat.  
  
“I don’t get her at times,” Becky mutters. “I’ve tried but I just… don’t. I think I get her and then something changes again. It’s like a see saw.”  
  
Sometimes trying to figure Charlotte out is like banging your head against a giant brick wall only to have the wall suddenly change direction and then hit you on the back of the head instead.  
  
“We go round and round in circles,” Becky adds, and it’s true because it is like a never ending loop or cycle, a huge human hamster wheel that accommodates the both of them. “It’s exhausting but I can’t say no to her and I don’t think she knows how to say no to me either. We’re together but… we’re not if y’know what I mean? She won’t take that step for me.”  
  
“It’s confusing as fuck for me and I’m only on the outside looking in on the pair of you.”  
  
Becky closes her eyes and nods as she feels Sasha’s arm wrap around her shoulders. “You got no idea, Sasha. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just make a clean break from it and move the hell on for everyone’s sake.”  
  
“Moving on isn’t always that easy.”  
  
“Yeah, I get that. But it should be when you’re in this sort of arrangement, no strings, nothing, remember. That’s supposed to be the rules.”  
  
“I see you two together when we’re all hanging out,” Sasha starts, “I don’t think you and Charlotte have ever been no strings. I just don’t think she knows what to do with her feelings for you.”  
  
“I don’t think I want to feel like this anymore,” Becky admits and a loud sigh breaks free from her chest. The sigh sounds like it is a signal, and not of Becky’s resolve leaving her but of the tension point that she has now reached. She’s a bit like an old fashioned kettle – still bubbling full even after some steam has forced its way outwards.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Just… like this.” Becky waves her hand vaguely in the air.  
  
“Oh Becky,” Sasha says after a few more minutes of silence, and Becky can hear it in the way Sasha says her name, and she can see it in the way something flashes across Sasha’s face. Sasha _knows_. “You love her, don’t you?” Sasha asks delicately.  
  
_There it is._  
  
Becky blinks and then looks to the other side, she can’t see any colours or patterns on the bike right now, but she can feel a gentle, sweet pain flood through her chest at Sasha’s words. The pain blossoms beautifully from the vine wrapped around her heart, like flowers of bright and bold elegance that are supposed to be seen.  
  
“You love her,” Sasha says simply. “And it’s a great fucking feeling, unless it hurts like this. You can try and run away from it,” Sasha adds, “but denial has quick feet and big wings, and it’ll probably follow you around until you confront it.”  
  
“Y’know something,” Becky muses, “I love all your philosophical bullshit.”  
  
“You need to decide what you’re going to do, Becky. Don’t put your heart through any more than it needs to. I love Charlotte, she’s my friend, but I kinda love you more because you’re my best friend.”  
  
“I know that,” Becky answers quietly. “You’re just lookin’ out for me.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“I don’t even know why I’m agreeing to this stupid fake dating bullshit. I tried to say nah.”  
  
“Trust me, from one person to another, Becky,” Sasha begins, as she rubs soothing circles on Becky’s shoulder, “if you don’t really understand the reason why you’re doing something like this for someone then it is probably love.”  
  
You see, your heart is a delicate thing. It sits in your chest and it supplies the blood to your cells to keep you alive every minute of every hour of every day. Even when you’re not aware of it or thinking about it, your heart is always working and looking out for you because it is the most important muscle in the body and without it working you wouldn’t be here. It’s that simple.  
  
It is also so impressive because it can be wounded over and over again and yet it never gives in, it heals and it continues to pound away behind your ribs and it keeps you going.

Name something else that can do that?


	2. Chapter 2

“When you asked if I wanted to do something tonight I should have known it would involve this wheeled death trap!” Charlotte’s voice is shaky, a little out of nerves, but mostly because the air feels like it is whipping at her face and the road is seriously bumpy so that every few moments she’s lifted slightly from where she’s sitting tightly against Becky’s back.  
  
“Has anyone ever been hurt on my bike, Charlotte?” Becky says it with complete confidence but Charlotte can sense the shift in the speed of the bike, it drops just a little bit, enough so that she can feel it. Becky doesn’t seem bothered by any of it and she turns her face a little before Charlotte shakes her own head furiously in Becky’s direction, both of their bike helmets bumping together.  
  
“Nope. Keep your eyes on the road.”  
  
Becky frowns, refusing to turn her head again. The daylight has begun to simmer down to the evening light. The sun is still up, but it hangs low in the sky without any strings or support. Sometimes Becky thinks that the sun looks like some sort of cardboard cut out, that it is in its own reality behind a wall of fire, hidden behind the heavens somewhere. She knows it isn't of course, she paid enough attention in science class to know that it is a fiery sphere in the centre of our solar system but still. It’s currently pouring out oranges and red into the horizon like lava.  
  
Another ten minutes pass on the bumpy road before Charlotte hears Becky shouting, “We’re here!”  
  
Here turns out to be the start of a hiking trail that Becky assures her isn’t an arduous task and it isn’t. It is mostly done in silence, except for the odd “watch that branch” or “watch that rock” between them here and there. The summer has been hot so far, hot enough to bake the ground causing a spider’s web of cracks across the dried surface. They make their way up to a ridge that is surrounded by a small wooden fence. Charlotte turns to ask Becky where they go from here, but as she turns, Becky is already walking past her and has one leg up and over the fence before she can even open her mouth. Charlotte can only follow.  
  
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Charlotte jokes as she winds her arm around Becky’s shoulder a short while later, content to just walk pressed up against Becky’s side. Becky laughs and nudges Charlotte with her elbow which only makes Charlotte smile more.  
  
“I’m pretty sure, yeah.”  
  
The wooden structure seems to emerge out of nowhere, it sits on a gentle grassy slope in a composed way, as if it has chosen this type of solitude for itself, as if permanent people are a luxury that it doesn’t want or need.  
  


The first thing that Charlotte notices is that while the walls still look firm and sturdy, the window frames strong and obviously well taken care of, there’s no roof. It is an odd looking thing, it has been stripped of its former glory but it still looks inviting in a weird sort of cosy way.  
  
Becky walks past her again and pushes on the door that springs freely away from the rusty hinge. Most old shacks tend to creak; this one doesn’t creak in the obvious horror movie kind of way, but more in the ‘should we really be in this thing’ kind of way. That said, Becky steps through the door anyway, ignoring the stupid creaking. It isn’t collapsing any time soon, she has already made sure of that.  
  
The landscape around it is beautiful. The hill continues to slope downwards so that it opens up into a sprawling view of the city. There are lights beginning to sparkle in the distance and the sun is about to plummet out of view completely soon.  
  
“What is this?”  
  
“I found it awhile ago,” Becky explains, as she comes back out the door to where Charlotte is standing. “It’s kinda my side project that I’ve been working on. I had to go through records and shit to see who it belonged to. I left stuff for us here earlier today.”  
  
“You did?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Have you brought anyone else here?”  
  
Becky hesitates for only a moment, but Charlotte notices it. There’s something about her question that has knocked Becky out of her stride.  
  
“Nah,” Becky answers with a shrug as she slips Charlotte a faint smile. “Anyway, it’s alright isn’t it?”  
  
“A wooden shack in the middle of a trail in the middle of nowhere?” Charlotte asks, skeptical.  
  
“Yeah! Look at the potential it has, cmon,” Becky says, holding out her left hand and holding the old door open with the other.  
  
Somehow, the inside of the structure is _elegant. _It feels like the spirit of the old shack has rescued itself by sleeping inside of its walls and only emerging when it wants to. Sure, it feels and smells a bit stagnant but Becky has apparently been helping that move along.  
  
Becky is right, it does have potential.  
  
There’s a small table in the corner; it is nothing more than a slab of marble held in curled iron rods. The beaten and weathered grey tells its tales of the time that has passed. At the back of the room there is a small outdoor fireplace that’s chimney stands vertical and there’s a few pieces of wood already in behind the grate. The floor has been cleaned and swept so that the wood looks as new as it possibly can.  
  
“I brought beer,” Becky says as she opens up a cooler that’s tucked away underneath the table. “Non alcoholic for me though. How fun.”  
  
Charlotte finds herself chuckling and shaking her head and catching the end of the sun disappearing from the window. “I’m a sucker for sunsets.”  
  
“I know, it’s why I brought you here,” Becky says, taking a drink of her beer that isn’t really beer but she’s trying to trick her brain anyway. “I dunno, thought it would be good for us to get away for a bit to just be… us, I guess.”  
  
Becky opens the door back up and lets Charlotte step out first. They watch the sunset in relative silence until the sun gives way to the inky blue of night, to colours being subdued by the vastness of the sky, of the first stars arriving in the sun’s place to say hello to them.   
  
“Tell me you brought matches for that fire pit?” Charlotte asks.  
  
Becky rolls her eyes at that. “Duh. Of course I did, stay here.”  
  
There are a few anxious moments where Charlotte doesn’t hear anything from inside. But then, the fear disappears when she takes a second to breathe in the smell of freshly lit wood and she can see the orange flames flickering into life from the corner of her eye. She understands then why Becky is attracted to this place: it sort of resembles Becky in a way – safe, secure, warm and inviting.  
  
“Can I come in yet?”  
  
“Yeah. I put a couple blankets down so we can look at the sky. The perks of having no roof.”  
  
The both of them settle on their backs, a blanket or two underneath them, so that they can look up at the sky. Becky points out clusters of stars, telling Charlotte stories about them that Charlotte knows for certain are not true but it doesn’t make her want to stop listening, in fact Becky’s childish enthusiasm for it all makes Charlotte want to listen to even more. Charlotte reaches out between the small space and links her pinky with Becky’s own.  
  
“That’s Ursa Major and Ursa Minor over there,” Becky murmurs, her voice almost swamped by the fire flickering around them. “You know the story of them?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Well Zeus fell in love with Calisto and then Hera, Zeus’ wife, got jealous and turned Calisto into a bear. When Calisto met her son he wanted to shoot the bear because duh, it’s a fuckin’ bear. So Zeus turned him into a bear too and he threw them into the sky by their tails so that they would be safe together.”  
  
Charlotte shifts so that she is leaning up on her elbow. “How the hell do you know that story?”  
  
“Full of surprises me. So,” Becky hums, “do you regret getting on my death trap bike earlier?”  
  
“Shut up,” Charlotte laughs as Becky smiles and turns her head over her shoulder so that she can look at Charlotte properly. “This fake dating thing isn’t such a bad deal, I guess.”  
  
Becky moves her head closer to Charlotte’s and then leans in so that their foreheads are touching. Becky closes her eyes and Charlotte follows suit, and she takes in the smell of the wood that is burning away gently, of the old shack that they are in, of how it feels historic yet new and Becky.  
  
Charlotte feels… lighter.  
  
“Thank you,” Charlotte says in barely more than a whisper.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For being you.” Charlotte’s voice wavers, exhilarated from the snapping tension between them. She draws her finger across Becky’s cheek and Becky smiles against her lips when Charlotte draws her in for a kiss.  
  
“Fake dating has a lot to answer for,” Becky mutters when Charlotte pulls away from her.  
  
They shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing.  
  
It is too much.  
  
And it is too close.  
  
And it is definitely too intimate.  
  
Becky knows it and she’s pretty sure that Charlotte is well aware of it too. Her attraction to Charlotte is painful but it won’t put a stop to this. Becky has almost come to long for the discomfort that this whole situation brings; she takes it into her system and nurtures it so it can grow and expand.  
  
She will never be able to say no to Charlotte.  
  
Charlotte leans forward and then puts her face in the crook of Becky’s neck so that she can smell the skin underneath her. When Charlotte’s nose makes contact with her, Becky feels herself sighing.  
  
When Charlotte speaks again, it is right next to Becky’s ear and Charlotte’s voice is smooth and low, and it moves the fine hairs on the back of Becky’s neck and starts a slow vibration in her chest that starts to spread outwards.  
  
“I think you should have me right here. Now.”  
  
Charlotte grabs at the collar of Becky’s shirt and draws her in for another kiss. Becky smiles into this kiss too as Charlotte’s hands snake up underneath the fabric to flatten themselves on her stomach, the cool sensation of Charlotte’s hands on her skin is electric. Becky groans and Charlotte giggles and lightly rakes her fingernails down to the waistband of Becky’s jeans.  
  
Becky reaches out and runs her thumb over Charlotte’s bottom lip and then she slips it inside her mouth. Charlotte stops, feeling the tip of Becky’s finger hook over her bottom teeth.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
The sweetness in Becky’s voice and the grip she has on Charlotte’s mouth makes Charlotte shiver in anticipation and melt with want all at the same time.  
  
“Yes,” Charlotte whispers as she slowly runs her tongue over Becky’s finger. “I want this.”  
  
Their pace is frantic. The need for skin on skin is too much, and there are too many offending layers between them. Becky helps Charlotte shed her jumper and bra while Charlotte unbuttons Becky’s shirt with an intensity that matches the stars above them. The blanket is rough beneath them as they continue to grab and explore and before long they are all but lost in each other.  
  
-  
  
Charlotte wakes leisurely, sleepy and slightly chilly. She clings on to the last fragments of her dream and she feels content. It’s the best kind of dream, the one where you wake up and know it is going to be another good summer’s day.  
  
A languid smile sweeps across her face and as her focus begins to swim to the surface, the images of her dream start to fade, blown away by the breeze in her mind or maybe just by the breeze that’s blowing through where they still are.  
  
The sun hasn’t risen yet but the sky is a light display of pastel colours. Streaks of yellow and pink and orange are all beginning to bleed into each other to overcome the last of the darkness. The sky resembles a prism; the colours all blend perfectly into each other and they seem to be promising the earth warmth and nourishment.  
  
Beside her, Becky shifts, and then there’s a grimace on her face as she blinks open her eyes and rolls over in Charlotte’s direction.  
  
“Mornin’,” Becky says, blinking rapidly. “Shit, did we fall asleep in here?”  
  
“We sure did. I must have tired you out as usual.”  
  
“You’re an ass,” Becky insists. “We better get going before the hikers appear and get a show.”  
  
“Let them,” Charlotte answers and she presses herself down on top of Becky and begins to kiss her all over again.  
  
Sometimes the thing that goes on between two people is so unique and private and confusing that the rest of the world just doesn’t understand but that’s okay, because at some point they will, and that probably includes the two people involved in the first place.  
  


*****  
  


“Do you think your mom will need a hand with dinner?” Becky asks. “Do you think I should ask her if she wants help? Or should I just go and help anyway?”  
  
Charlotte glances over her shoulder, her lips curved into a half smile. “Sure, but only if you want her to glare and snap at you. The kitchen is kind of her thing, you know that.”  
  
“Christ, that’s not ominous at all,” Becky says as she turns her attention back to her beer bottle, twisting the cap off with a small pop. “She’s gonna know we’re faking this whole thing.”  
  
“You need to relax a little.”  
  
Despite the awkwardness, Becky sits close to Charlotte at dinner. The food is exceptional and Charlotte’s mom has made enough to feed the five hundred, so Becky helps herself to seconds because that’s what it is there for, right? She keeps her leg bouncing under the table until Charlotte lowers her hand onto her thigh, giving it a tight squeeze, and it is only then that Becky realises how tense Charlotte has been throughout this dinner too.  
  
Becky helps Charlotte with the dishes. Charlotte washes and Becky dries, and every time Charlotte hands her something there is an easy smile on her face. They work effortlessly together as a team.  
  
With the dishes washed, dried and put back into the right place, they head back to the living room to join Charlotte’s mom who is watching some drama tv show that doesn’t really interest either of them much.  
  
Becky sits at the corner of the couch first so that her arm can stretch along the back of it. Charlotte’s fingertips graze over Becky’s arm as she sits down beside her and then Charlotte’s shifting closer so that Becky’s arm rests naturally across her shoulders.  
  
Charlotte leans her head back against the soft juncture of skin between Becky’s neck and shoulder. She takes Becky’s free hand into her own, pushing their fingertips together before tracing the roadmap of veins that spread from Becky’s wrist and then clasping their hands together so that their palms press. Becky can only sigh, curling her hand around Charlotte’s shoulder.  
  
“So, lovebirds, how long has this been going on?”  
  
“Mom. Please. Don’t do this.”  
  
Becky’s heart lurches into her throat at the question. She should have expected it really, should have seen it coming, and yet… when she shoots a glance at Charlotte from the corner of her eye she can see the same panic written across Charlotte’s face too.  
  
Becky gets to her feet as Charlotte continues to look at her. “I might just go and get another beer.”  
  
Before she can walk too far, Charlotte reaches forward and catches Becky’s wrist with her hand, biting her nails into Becky’s skin with a little bit of sting. “Get me one too, please_._”  
  
Becky disappears into the kitchen and digs two new beer bottles out of the fridge. She stands just before the door - a beer clutched in either hand – and waits just out of sight as she listens to what story Charlotte has come up with or trying to spin.  
  
“It happened a few months ago,” Charlotte’s voice is calm and completely unaffected, totally at odds with what Becky had seen on her face a minute ago. “It is a new thing.”  
  
Becky hears movement, like Charlotte is now sitting up straighter on the couch.  
  
“A new thing,” Charlotte’s mom repeats slowly. “I see.”  
  
She doesn’t believe them.  
  
Charlotte knows it.  
  
Becky knows it.  
  
Every one knows it.  
  
Becky’s head falls forward against the wall with a dull thud.  
  
“Yes, a new thing, mom.”  
  
“It was me that chased her, really,” Becky says as she reappears with two bottles. “I had a hard day at work and needed to take my mind off things so I asked her to come over and watch this dumb horror movie with me. She did and afterwards we ended up opening this gross bottle of wine. It’s not exactly a love story for the ages.”  
  
Charlotte can remember that night. It had happened a few months after they had started whatever this is.  
  
It was the first time she had felt this thing between them shift, she’d tried not to think about it, and still tries to but after that night there was something about the way Becky had looked at her the following morning. It hadn’t just been sex. Becky had sighed but there had been something different; she had looked deflated as if the tension had lifted from her bones but been replaced with melancholy instead of relief.  
  
“The next morning," Becky muses, "I nipped out early and came back with tea and breakfast, Charlotte likes this really sweet tea. She says that she doesn’t but she does. I think that must have won her over.” Her hands are almost shaking around the beer bottles. “We just wanted it to be ours for a little bit longer so we didn’t tell anyone.”  
  
Charlotte audibly swallows; Becky can hear it from where she’s standing but she doesn’t waver. Becky holds her gaze when Charlotte looks up at her but there’s no hostility in her eyes, Becky simply looks at her with warm affection as usual.  
  
“Becky – “  
  
“It’s alright, Charlotte. Your mom asked.”  
  
Becky stands by her words too because they are mostly true and even the best lies have to have a little truth to them, that’s usually what makes them so convincing and Becky hopes that she has managed to sound convincing. Otherwise there is going to be a lot of egg on her and Charlotte’s face at the end of the night.  
  
“You can’t predict these things, mom,” Charlotte says after a few beats of silence, her eyes flat and narrow in her mom’s direction.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know,” her mom answers quickly. “I think sometimes things between some people are actually very predictable.”  
  


*****  
  


The time flies by.  
  
Charlotte finds herself posting more frequently on social media about her and Becky; she posts on Instagram with several cheesy emoji’s after every photo and she tweets about where they have been and so on.  
  
And everyone seems to believe them. In fact no one second guesses them at all – not a single soul. And Bayley tells Charlotte that if that is not a sign that she should get a grip and admit how she actually feels then she doesn’t have a clue what is.  
  
Anyway, the point is, the time passes quickly.  
  
“Wait. Hold on. What do you mean you don’t know what you’re wearing to the wedding yet?” Charlotte asks, as she lowers her tea cup to the table. Her eyes narrow and Becky feels pinned down underneath Charlotte’s rigid stare. “You told me you had it all sorted weeks ago!”  
  
“I kinda thought I did,” Becky answers with a lazy shrug. “But work got busy and I y’know… forgot.”  
  
“You for – actually it doesn’t matter. Get dressed, we’re going shopping.”  
  
“You’re not serious?”  
  
“You’re damn right I’m serious, Becky.”  
  
-  
  
That’s how they end up here.  
  
It is Becky’s idea of a nightmare but here she is living in it.  
  
Stepping back to have a look at her reflection, Becky smooth’s her hand down the front of the suit jacket. It’s tagged as a ‘midnight blue’ colour with printed lining and the fabric feels sleek and cool against her skin, and it compliments her skin tone in the way that Charlotte said it would which is kind of annoying but whatever. The jacket is a little loose around her shoulders though no matter how much she tries to button it in at the waist.  
  
Becky turns her body so that she can look over her shoulder and past the tailor. The trousers are tight fitting and hug her thighs and ass like they are made for her. They are slightly too short so that she will be able to wear slip-ons with them – that is the one battle Becky has won today.  
  
“I think this is the one. This is the suit.”  
  
“Well, you know what they say, fifth suit is the charm, Becky,” Charlotte says with an over exaggerated smile.  
  
“The black suits were ugly, just admit it.”  
  
“I can admit it,” Charlotte answers, “it made you look like you were trying to give me a loan at the bank.”  
  
“We’ll need to pull out a narrower fitted jacket for you, but your girlfriend is right, it compliments you really well,” the tailor murmurs. She stretches the tape back across Becky’s shoulders and then vertically down the length of Becky’s spine. “I think we may have one available on the floor, let me go and check.”  
  
The tailor disappears, presumably to find Becky a smaller jacket and Becky slips her one off her shoulders with Charlotte’s help. The white shirt she has on is pristine and the silver tie that’s dotted with tiny flecks of colour kind of binds the whole outfit together. Charlotte had picked out the tie to match her dress colour instead of the funky colourful bow tie Becky had seen and wanted, much to Becky’s chagrin.  
  
Charlotte’s eyes rake up the length of Becky’s body, pausing slightly at the small exposed area of Becky’s throat where the tie is a little looser. “You look seriously _hot_.”  
  
Becky smiles and there’s a look of pure joy on her face, like all her Christmases have just arrived at once. “Y’think? I like this one.”  
  
“Fuck. Yes.” Charlotte nods as the tailor arrives back with the smaller jacket draped over her arm.  
  
Becky’s eyes dart towards Charlotte’s lips almost out of reflex. She decides to put her hands into the pocket of her trousers, nearly overwhelmed with the desire to reach out and grab Charlotte towards her. Charlotte clears her throat and turns her head towards the tailor.  
  
_Get a grip_, Becky tells herself with the strictest tone she can internally muster, her heart beating so loudly that she can feel it pulsing away in her throat.  
  
“I’ll take this one,” Becky ends up saying to the tailor.  
  


*****  
  


Becky asks to meet her for dinner a week before they have to leave for the wedding.  
  
They end up in a stylish converted steak barn dining room just outside the city.  
  
The barn has ben refurbished with wooden beams and metal lighting. The huge tables where they are siting are from recycled wood and blown down trees as noted on the board as they walked in. Becky thinks the whole thing is pretty theatrical and spectacular with grills blazing away like a fire in full swing.  
  
When they sit down Charlotte realises that Becky has came straight from work. She’s wearing a clean shirt but there’s still a smudge of black on the inside of her wrist that she’s attempted to hide with her watch, as if she had left the garage in a hurry and not had time to properly clean whatever it is off her skin.  
  
Charlotte feels Becky’s knees bounce against her own under the table three times before she sighs and asks what the hell is going on with her.  
  
“What d’you mean?”  
  
“You,” Charlotte says with a nod towards the table. “I’m getting friction burns on my knees with you bouncing your legs around under there.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Nah, not really,” Becky admits.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
Becky wonders why the fuck her brain and mouth have decided to team up and bring up this stuff now but they have and she’s going to have to ride it out regardless because she can feel the words clogging up the back of her throat and there is no way in hell she can swallow them back down.  
  
“I want you,” Becky finally says in a low voice.  
  
“I’m right here.”  
  
“Nah. Like, I _really _want you, Charlotte.”  
  
Charlotte’s stomach flutters at the fragile look on Becky’s face. If she didn’t know any better she’d think that Becky almost looks hopeful right now.  
  
“Becky, we’ve been through this – “  
  
“I know but – “  
  
“Why would you want to complicate our friendship?”  
  
“Like it’s so fuckin’ simple right now?” Becky counters quickly, nostrils flaring. “Are you jokin’?”  
  
“We can’t.”  
  
“I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of doing this. We’ve danced around the issue of ‘us’ for too fuckin’ long, Charlotte.”  
  
There it is, out in the open. Charlotte’s eyes go wide. The words have tumbled out angrily, but Becky had meant them. She can’t exactly open her mouth and shove them back in.  
  
“It’s exhausting, Charlotte. We’re practically together anyway,” Becky nearly shouts.  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?”  
  
“It means that we practically do everything every other couples does apart from own it. Now we’re roped into some fake dating thing when it would be so much easier to just be us. Do you hear how stupid it all sounds? Because it sounds really fuckin’ stupid to me.”  
  
Charlotte frowns, sliding her eyes to the right to glance around, wondering if anyone else is listening to Becky’s mini rant. People are definitely listening. Charlotte can see the weird looks her and Becky are getting.  
  
“Right and wrong – that’s what it’s all about,” Becky plows on as her frustration comes to a crashing crescendo. “Plain and simple. Nothin’ else matters. If it feels wrong then it is wrong but if it feels right then it’s… right.”  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“And we’re right, Charlotte,” Becky says. “I know you’re picky and scared about what this means for us. Fuckin’ hell, I want you to be picky but I want you to pick me… cause I’d pick you.”  
  
Because in the end isn’t that what we all want really? We just want someone who picks us. That has choices but chooses us anyway, no matter the circumstances or the time or the place.  
  
The words hang between them for a few seconds, like a feather caught in a gentle breeze.  
  
“Becky, I don’t - ”  
  
“Then I can’t do this anymore,” Becky interrupts quickly as she slides herself out from the booth. The tears that she’s been holding in begin to spill and she feels the muscles in her chin tremble like a child’s, she looks towards the door as if the light coming into the barn can soothe her. Becky fetches money out of her pocket before tossing it gently onto the table in front of Charlotte despite the fact they haven’t even ordered yet. “I’ll be your date for this wedding cause I won’t let you down now but after that I’m out. I’m never enough for you, am I?”  
  
“Becky, that’s not - ”  
  
“It is.”

  
When Becky walks away Charlotte realises that the tighter you try to hang on to something and the more you focus on it, the easier it can slip away from your grasp.  
  


*****  
  


It’s six days before Becky gets in touch with her again. Becky’s message is short and straight to the point: Becky is picking her up tomorrow morning so that they can leave for the hotel together. The drive is over two hours and to say Charlotte is dreading it is an obvious understatement.

  
The day’s have stretched, too long and too quiet without Becky, Charlotte can’t remember them not talking for this length of time since they met. She struggles to sleep and the urge to text or call Becky is like an itch under her skin that she can’t scratch.  
  
She doesn’t call or text though; she knows Becky needs space and time.  
  
Time, Charlotte is beginning to discover, is a lot like fast flowing water. It always moves forward. But she seems to want to fight against it for some reason. She swims against the current, trying to hold onto anything that will stop her from getting swept away.  
  
And she has no idea why because Becky is a constant in her life and always has been, since day one.  
  
They shouldn’t really fit together and yet they do.  
  
And oh.  
  
It is a painful realisation – so painful that it burns her lungs and takes her breath away – discovering that maybe Becky has been right about them and Charlotte has been totally wrong.  
  
Charlotte sits on her couch and tries not to think about it.  
  
She feels kind of empty without Becky.

But can a person really be empty?

Charlotte begins to think that it is because happiness is a satisfying weight that sits in the middle of your chest, and you just don’t notice it after a while because it is always there and you become accustomed to it. But when that’s taken away, and when that weight drops off, and when the source of it is gone it gives the illusion that you are empty. Charlotte realises then that she is not empty, she is just full of the wrong thing at the moment.  
  
She tries to accept that maybe Bayley has been right all along too. She tries to accept that just because all of her previous relationships have ended in heartbreak it doesn’t mean that it would with Becky because now, either way, whether it is their friendship or something more, if Becky really is done with her then she is going to be heartbroken anyway.

The whole situation is twisted and knotted together in her head so that she can’t separate any of it. Every time she attempts to straighten one thread, another one is pulled loose. It is like trying to tip toe through an emotional minefield with a blindfold on and the mess of it all feels unyielding.  
  
Because at the end of the day, you either say how you feel and fuck it up or say nothing and let it fuck you up anyway.  
  
Sometimes you need to let go of what your mind tells you, or what you think is going to happen and follow what your heart is indicating.  
  
It is the only way you can ever discover what is real or not.  
  


*****  
  


Everything is tense.  
  
The drive to the hotel. Charlotte. Becky. The atmosphere.  
  
Everything.  
  
You could cut the atmosphere with a knife. It is such a cliché and yet Becky’s sure she could carve right through it if she really wanted to. The air is bereft of light and sound, like the suspended few seconds before a glass falls to the floor and shatters, sending debris flying everywhere.  
  
The silence between them is awfully unnatural; it lingers in the air, thick and heavy like a winter blanket in summer.  
  
Becky pulls the car into an open space in the parking lot behind the hotel and kills the engine with a sigh. The lot is semi crowded and around them Becky can see other guests getting out of their own cars with their own suitcases and outfit bags.  
  
They should just get out of the car and join everyone else but Becky stalls. Her hand falls from the steering wheel to her knees as she watches everyone else out the window, weaving around cars and other people, all heading in the same direction to the fancy hotel that has cost Becky half her pay packet for this month.  
  
Charlotte is the one who finally breaks the silence. “We don’t need to do this. I can fake sick and we can just go home.”  
  
Becky rolls her eyes and then turns her face so that she is looking at Charlotte. Their faces are close, and Charlotte can see how dark Becky’s eyes are, and how long and natural her lashes are. She can smell Becky’s sweet and subtle perfume between them but there’s an undertone of something else that smells bizarrely attractive: machinery and work.  
  
“I know. But I bought a suit an’ I like the beach so here I am. Plus… wouldn’t let you down, would I?”  
  
The silence begins to stretch thin again, in the same way that you blow up a balloon until it reaches a certain point and the temptation to rupture it is just too much to resist and it goes _bang._  
  
“No, you wouldn’t let me down, Becky. You never do.”  
  
Becky’s lips brush Charlotte’s own just after the words are out of Charlotte’s mouth. Not innocently either, not like a tease, but hot and fiery and demanding. And even though they’ve done this often enough, Charlotte still gets taken aback at how enthusiastically Becky kisses her at times.  
  
Her body, however, doesn’t seem to have the same confusion when it comes to Becky’s kiss. Maybe it is the fact they haven’t done this in a week, maybe it is the fact that Becky’s fingers are in her hair now or maybe it is the fact that when Becky pushes her Charlotte pushes right back, but something inside of Charlotte begins to crumble.  
  
Perhaps Becky is a healthy kind of drug, the kind of drug that launches your mind into a frenzy of sparks and colour but in the good way. Every time Becky kisses her in this manner Charlotte feels a bit like a machine that has been switched on before but never had full power until now.  
  
The rest of the outside world becomes an unimportant blur that is banished into the far recesses of her mind. The only person that is here with her is Becky. Becky’s kisses are a comforting bubble that Charlotte enjoys so much that she doesn’t want to pop it.  
  
But as always, with them, complication comes.

It comes in the form of someone loudly knocking on the window of Becky’s car, dragging them both out of the situation. Charlotte actually yelps, biting down way too hard on the fleshy part of Becky’s bottom lip, which in turn makes Becky’s fingers pull at Charlotte’s hair even harder.  
  
The sigh that escapes Becky’s lips when they pull apart flutters like a butterfly caught in the wind. A sigh. Desire and disappointment. A sigh. Relief and worry. A sigh. Happiness and confusion. The sigh means everything and Charlotte’s aware of it, the sigh is all of those things rolled into one simple exhale of breath.

_Hello. _One of Charlotte’s cousin’s mouths through the window, giving them a pointed look.  
  
“Oh, Jesus,” Charlotte breathes.  
  
Becky arches an eyebrow, chest still heaving slightly as she struggles to recover from her temporary lapse in judgment. “I dunno if he can save us either.”  
  
Becky gets out of the car first, slamming the door harder than necessary in an act of childish petulance. When Charlotte follows she is wrapped up in a hug from her cousin who she hasn’t seen for at least two years and while the hug feels good she can’t help but look across the roof of the car at Becky who is standing with her arms folded and staring upwards at the sky.  
  
“Becky, this is my cousin, Isabella. Isabella, this is Becky.”  
  
“I’m the girlfriend.”  
  
To Becky’s credit, she’s great. Actually, Charlotte’s a little surprised at how great Becky is. She makes Charlotte’s cousin laugh and smile and she cracks silly jokes and Charlotte wonders if Becky’s earlier mood has been lifted and carried away by the clouds above them.  
  
When Isabella leaves they are left standing opposite each other and Becky goes back into defense mode: folding her arms across her chest again.  
  
“I know you have this whole low brow and broody thing going on today and I get that you’re not happy with me,” Charlotte says as she takes a step forward. “But you can’t really pull it off when you have my lipstick on the side of your mouth.”  
  
Becky’s face fights a smile when Charlotte rubs gently at the side of her mouth with her thumb.  
  
“You let me talk to your cousin with your lipstick on my face?”  
  
“I did. But now I’m fixing it, is that okay?”  
  
“Don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”  
  
An old man dragging a wheeled suitcase stops beside them to catch his breath and then he smiles in Becky’s direction. “You usually don’t have a choice, just go with what your wife says and you’ll likely have less trouble to deal with.”  
  
“Where is Jesus when you need him?” Becky mutters under her breath so that only Charlotte can hear her.  
  
Charlotte laughs alongside the man and bumps her shoulder against Becky’s own. “Not even he can save us, remember?”  
  
-

Becky takes ten minutes to unpack.  
  
And by unpack, she means hanging her suit up so it doesn’t crease, changing into suitable clothes for the beach and leaving the room as quickly as possible so her and Charlotte don’t have much time to dwell on the strange, thick atmosphere between them.  
  
Charlotte finds her soon after though, she always does.  
  
Becky is sitting on a particularly uncomfortable looking rock while she digs her bare feet into the wet sand and looks out over the ocean that looks like it is breathing, the surface rising and falling with an easy rhythm, the waves becoming its pulse.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be over there with your family?” Becky asks, nodding over towards the group of Charlotte’s family who are all gathered together. A few of Charlotte’s cousin’s have set up a volleyball net further down the beach and Charlotte is kind of itching to get involved in the game if she’s being honest but she doesn’t, she stays put. Charlotte’s mom and her aunt Rachelle are sitting under an umbrella with a drink in their hand.  
  
“I’m here with you,” Charlotte answers with a sigh. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”  
  
“There’s a lot of things that aren’t a good idea but we do them anyway.”  
  
“I think that says a lot about us then,” Charlotte says, keeping her eyes on the ocean now. “I want to talk when this weekend is over. I don’t want to make this weekend about me or you, it’s not fair.”  
  
Becky nods, resting her head against Charlotte’s shoulder. She has no idea what Charlotte wants to say to her, maybe it is better that way though. We all think we want to know certain things until you might actually know them and then it is all about whether you are strong enough to take that possible punch to the gut.  
  
Becky sometimes finds it odd that they can go from one extreme to another. The atmosphere in the car and the room felt stifling and suffocating and yet here, it just feels… right. It just feels like the last week hasn’t happened and they are fine.  
  
“You didn’t tell me your family are kinda cool. I mean, I knew your mom was but still you gave me the impression they were all mad…”  
  
Charlotte laughs, it’s quieter than Becky is used to but it seems genuine and that is all that matters. “Do you want to go in the water?”  
  
“In the ocean?”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Without even thinking, Becky runs towards the water, splashing it everywhere in her wake. Just as she dives in she feels alive, like she is breathing easier again. The water is cold, despite the heat in the air around them. Becky’s body gets used to it quickly, but Charlotte looks disgusted at how cold it is.  
  
“Remember this was your idea,” Becky says, lips quirking into a smile that Charlotte doesn’t particularly trust. Her instinct is proven right when Becky distracts her by pointing to the volleyball game that is happening on the beach. Becky takes her chance and dunks Charlotte under the water, laughing hysterically when Charlotte emerges back up out of the water.

  
Charlotte splutters out her embarrassment, pushing her sodden hair out of her eyes and away from her face. And despite the initial shock of the cold, the water now feels good around her body. She splashes water in Becky’s direction, and then again when Becky’s only reaction is to laugh.  
  
“Fuck you, I’m leaving,” Charlotte shouts over the noise of the water but there’s a smile blooming across her face and it feels like it is the first time she has smiled all week, and when she thinks about it, it probably is.  
  
Before she can leave, Becky is on her back with her legs around Charlotte’s waist, and Becky pulls back slightly so they are pressed tightly together. Her chin rests on Charlotte’s shoulder and her mouth is warm and soft against Charlotte’s neck. The water drips off of Becky and onto Charlotte and something flashes across Becky’s face but Charlotte doesn’t catch it from where she is positioned.  
  
“I’m sorry.”

“I guess I can forgive you, Becky.”  
  
Becky’s lips press against Charlotte’s neck and she can feel the noise against her skin when Becky talks. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I know. I’m sorry too.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
A short while later when Becky decides she would rather play volleyball than stay in the water, Charlotte realises that her back sometimes feels naked without Becky curled against it.

-

  
“Becky?” Charlotte asks softly.  
  
She keeps still, breathing sort of irregularly, until Becky finally climbs into bed beside her. Then it is simply a question of timing their routine right so that they meet in the middle and Becky’s arm slips around Charlotte almost automatically.  
  
Why, Charlotte wonders sleepily and under the influence of more alcohol than she should be, does she still bother pretending?  
  
“I was dreaming about this but it feels better like this. Clean sheets and you.”  
  
“Does it?” Becky asks, and she moves across the bed a bit to put a little distance between them again.  
  
It all still feels like a dream really: soft sheets and warm skin against her own, soothing and luxurious and Becky’s arm is draped across her shoulders.  
  
Charlotte has a moment of fear that this really is a dream and that soon she will wake up alone. Then a noise distracts her: distant sirens that have no place in any dream. She tenses but Becky’s hand still strokes up and over her shoulder blade. There are more sirens but it has nothing to do with her or them. She has nothing to worry about.

She is safe here.  
  
“I missed you last week.” A humourless laugh closes Charlotte’s eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry, Charlotte.”  
  
“I get why you left. You were angry.”  
  
“Kinda,” Becky admits. She had realised pretty quickly last week that being angry is just being angry. Anger isn’t bad and it’s not good either, it is just there, a feeling that gnaws at you. But what you do with the anger matters because you can use it to destroy everything in your path or you can use it to rebuild things. You have that choice to make.  
  
“Yeah. I think I finally realised. It also wasn’t like a, God – I – wonder – what – Becky – is – doing – missed you. I mean I actually started to feel like something had been cut off from me. I missed you because you were _missing_ from my life. Didn’t like it.”  
  
Becky makes a noise that comes from the back of her throat because she believes what Charlotte is saying right now. “I didn’t like it either.”  
  
“I kept wondering what you were doing. Becky must be watching that new superhero movie. I wonder if Becky is asleep right now. I wish I could go down on Becky right now. Becky needs to stop and eat right now. I don’t mean me but… well maybe me.”  
  
“I don’t think we should have drunk so much tonight.” Becky tries not to look at Charlotte but she fails, she turns her head to the right and Charlotte’s staring back at her with soft, affectionate eyes that Becky knows can’t be for show.

They simply can’t be.  
  
“Probably not,” Charlotte concedes as her eyes drift shut. “Definitely more than I should have anyway, just blame my family. Oh God, I’ll have a hangover for the wedding tomorrow.”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“Do you think it’s always like this?” Charlotte whispers. “This feeling in my chest and the flutter in my stomach, just… being happy around you.”  
  
Becky lifts her face in the dark, her lower lip pulled tightly between her teeth. “Nah,” she says soberly. “Nah, this is different.”  
  
Charlotte recaptures the end of her train of thought before it disappears with her into sleep. “You’re enough for me but I’m afraid of what that means.”  
  
If Becky says anything in reply, Charlotte doesn’t hear it.  
  


*****  
  


The sky is filled with blended shades of pinks and oranges when Becky wakes up. It is a pretty subtle way to welcome a new day, a new beginning. Becky leans across to switch off the alarm on her phone with her left hand and as she briefly closes her eyes, she feels the heady pull of her dreams, coaxing her back to play. But like a child at the swings who has been told it’s time to go home, she reluctantly opens her eyes again and switches her attention to her right.  
  
Charlotte is curled into Becky’s side and Becky doesn’t have any feeling in her right arm. She hears Charlotte let out a sleepy sigh and Becky has the sneaky suspicion that Charlotte is pretending to be much closer to sleep than she actually is. But when Charlotte’s breathing goes shallow again after a few minutes Becky knows she has drifted back off to sleep.  
  
Becky sits upright and extracts her arm from underneath Charlotte, it takes a few moments for the blood to return to her arm and her hand. She carefully clambers off the bed, ducking down to her suitcase to pick up a hoodie before she pads across to the balcony doors, opening them quietly so that it doesn’t disturb Charlotte.  
  
She feels better as soon as she steps outside and sits herself down onto one of the chairs. The morning air isn’t cold but there is a natural breeze that comes from the sea that soothes her. She watches the ocean, it is like a gentle giant with its powers untapped, muscles unflexed, caressing the beach with admiration and its soft murmurs are barely audible at this early hour.  
  
Becky lets the now familiar sound of the ocean wash over her, allowing herself a moment for everything to be still and peaceful. With her eyes closed she can almost pretend that she is not even here anymore, that she is somewhere completely stress free and not lying to everyone and not dreading whatever is going to come of this when the weekend is over.  
  
She finds herself looking over her shoulder and through the balcony door at Charlotte who is still asleep, her fist has been shoved under the pillow and most of her face is hidden by blonde hair and Becky feels something fall away inside of her: maybe it is hope, maybe it is wishful thinking or maybe it is just plain love.  
  
She doesn’t know.  
  
What she does know, however, is that she is not overly fond of weddings and today is going to be one long fucking day.  
  
-

Becky’s hands wrap around the balcony rail and she looks out at the sea that stretches in all directions, the high afternoon sun scattering diamonds across its surface. She’s careful not to get too close though so that nothing ruins her shirt that is perfectly fitted and perfectly white. The fabric sticks to her skin in the ever-rising heat and the thought of putting her suit jacket on makes her feel uncomfortable. Her tie, which still sits loosely and untied around her neck, catches the sun every so often and the little specks of colour bouce around and burst into life.  
  
“Well, how do I look then?”  
  
The voice comes from behind her and Becky turns. She has seen many beautiful women throughout her life, she has been with a few in her time too but none of them compare to the woman in front of her.  
  
None of them compare to Charlotte, nobody probably will, Becky has long since realised.  
  
The strapless silvery grey dress accentuates Charlotte’s waist and hugs her hips, and the slit in the side exposes just enough skin so that Becky is interested. Charlotte looks elegant and classy and beautiful. Becky takes a deep breath before she moves herself away from the balcony.  
  
“You look… uh, yeah. Wow.”  
  
“Come here.”  
  
Becky does as she’s told, covering the few paces between them with ease. Charlotte’s hands reach up and she takes Becky’s tie into them, making light work of it before she’s pushing the knot backwards so that it settles against the hollow of Becky’s throat. She folds the collar of Becky’s shirt over the tie and then smooth’s everything down.  
  
“You look incredible.”  
  
“I know,” Becky answers jokingly, her light tone breaking through the thick air.  
  
“You smell incredible too.”  
  
Maybe it is something about the way Becky has her hands tucked into her pockets with her shoulders back, like she is back in control. Or maybe it is the feel of muscle and warm skin underneath the fresh shirt that seems to hug Becky in a perfect fit. Or maybe it is the stupidly cute little wrench and spanner cufflinks that hold the wrists of the shirt together. Or maybe it is the way Becky’s eyes blaze in her direction and make her insides feel like the sea outside.  
  
Whatever it is, Charlotte is a goner.  
  
Charlotte watches as Becky’s gaze wanders and Becky has the cheek to smirk, her teeth pulling her bottom lip into her mouth. She waits until Becky’s eyes meet her own before she leans a little closer, their foreheads almost touching. She lets her thumb trace over the smooth line of Becky’s jaw and Becky doesn’t realise Charlotte is tilting her face up until their lips are pressed together in a gentle kiss.  
  
It is all over before it even begins.  
  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Charlotte whispers.  
  
“Yeah,” Becky replies, more of a sigh than an actual word. She takes Charlotte’s hand, pulling it closer towards her. “We’ve had plenty of practice.”  
  
-  
  
The day goes fairly quickly much to Becky’s delight.  
  
There are no mishaps or accidents or disasters. The wedding on the whole is utterly beautiful.  
  
She stands at the end of the bar swirling whisky in her glass, listening to the soft cracking of the ice cubes, breathing in a spicy fragrance that only years in a Scottish oak barrel can achieve. The whisky dials down the volume of the thoughts still running around in her head.  
  
When the amber liquid settles, she brings it to her lips and lets it sit in her mouth before swallowing. She closes her eyes, focusing on the harsh taste only.  
  
The band – who are pretty damn good for what it is worth – starts playing a slow song Becky doesn’t know but she is aware that it is the kind of song couples dance to and, helpless to her own heart, Becky finds Charlotte across the room. Charlotte who is tilting her head in the direction of the dance floor. Becky downs the rest of her drink in one go and with a grimace she begins to weave in and out between the tables.  
  
“You wanna dance?”  
  
“Why not?” Charlotte asks back.  
  
“Alright.” Becky holds out her hand and Charlotte takes it.  
  
The slow music wraps around them like rope and Charlotte rests her chin next to Becky’s head. The music spins them around, lifting them away from everything except each other. Becky loses count of the number of times Charlotte steps on her feet and she feels Charlotte laughing against her ear and it is impossible for Becky not to laugh too.  
  
Becky pushes Charlotte away from her so that Charlotte can duck under her arm and then Becky reels her back in so that they are pressed tightly together again. Becky spins them in circles, circles that seem to be getting faster and faster despite the slow nature of the song, and Charlotte decides that co-ordinated moves don’t matter here.  
  
All that matters is the person in front of you.  
  
“Becky, I need to - ”  
  
“Is the next wedding yours then?!” comes the interruption, it comes from a burly man that Becky knows is Charlotte’s uncle and the words are directed specifically at them.  
  
Becky’s brain stutters for a moment as the words register with her and then her body goes into pause mode as her thoughts catch up with her. Her stomach does that funny dipping thing where it feels as though you have missed a step. It feels as though someone has dumped a bucket of cold water over her in all honesty.  
  
Becky’s eyes flit between Charlotte and her uncle, and she finds herself dropping Charlotte’s hands and her hearing goes strange, as though the noise of everything around them is muted and fading away into nothing.  
  
Because it is all pretend.  
  
Her and Charlotte will never have any of this because it is not real.  
  
It is fake.  
  
This whole thing is a total sham and Becky is so, so tired.  
  
She uses the bathroom as an excuse and then she leaves.  
  
-

  
Becky stares into the breeze, her eyelids fluttering closed as she breathes in the salty fragrance of the sea. She slips out of her shoes and curls her toes; she feels the grainy sand inbetween them, still damp from the retreating tide. She wiggles her feet as a shiver tip toes up her spine and her eyes open.  
  
The sand blurs out in a joyful trance, the rest of the shore morphing into inky darkness, sparkling under the moon. Her lips curve upwards into a smile and she focuses her gaze onto the far off horizon where it looks like the end of the earth, the flaring colour of the moon bleeding into the sky and ocean like a water colour painting.  
  
The sea looks completely black from where she is standing. Becky watches as nature takes its course and the waves overlap each other, sending the white foamy crests away and allowing the shore to be bathed in transparent water.  
  
Becky’s not really the gambling type but she knows who and what is coming when she hears soft footsteps behind her.

She is going to have to bet that this thing that she feels, the thing that she knows Charlotte feels too, that it goes beyond them. She is going to have to take a risk and bet that there is more to them than just the predictability of a break up like all of their previous relationships. She is going to have to bet that they are the exception that breaks the rule when it comes to each other.  
  
“You need to give me somethin’,” Becky voices quietly. “I can wait for you, if you need some time to figure all of this out, but give me somethin’. I need somethin’ now, Charlotte.”  
  
“Becky - ”

Becky’s words tilt Charlotte’s mind, leaving it moving in foreign ways, ways Charlotte is unaccustomed to. Becky’s words are like an echo in her head, but an echo that has the ability to tear down the walls she has built high and deep. The trap in Charlotte’s head springs shut - caught between opposing needs. The need to love and want Becky seem to go hand in hand but the need to protect what they have – whatever that might be - and not completely wreck it stands stubborn.  
  
“If I say what I really want to then that will be it.” Becky shakes her head. “How the fuck do I make you understand?” She’s almost pleading now. “You are everythin’, don’t you get it? You aren’t like anyone else to me. _For_ me.”  
  
Charlotte speaks with her face fixed onto the floor. “One day it’ll go wrong and then we’ll end up losing each other. I don’t know if I can do that, Becky.”  
  
“I dunno why you say that,” Becky argues, “have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”  
  
Charlotte raises her eyes to meet Becky’s and she knows Becky isn’t messing around.  
  
“It’s what happens though. We’ll be great for a while and then real life will set in and I won’t be exciting for you anymore. I’ll be boring - ”  
  
“You think pushing me away and putting barriers on us is a way of self control an’ I guess it is but it means leaving me on the outside and I can’t be there anymore. I need to know how you feel. You’re either in or you’re out, Charlotte, I can’t do this in the middle bullshit any longer,” Becky says firmly. “I know why you’re scared but if you’re not gonna leave the door open for me a little bit then I really can’t do this with you anymore.”  
  
Becky’s words flow out of her mouth like water but land in Charlotte’s stomach like shrapnel. She can feel her insides begin to tear and the blood begins to drain out of her face. She wants to laugh but Becky seems deadly serious right now.

Becky actually looks like someone who is about to be sick.  
  
_You’re either in or you’re out.  
  
_“Charlotte, you need to take a chance on someone at some point. It may as well be me. I’m in this for the long haul if you want me.” _  
  
_“I’m a mess,” Charlotte says, halfway between joking and not. “I worry all the time about you, me, us. I’m temperamental. I can be high maintenance. I can’t even - ”  
  
Becky laughs without even meaning to. “Charlotte, do you honestly think I don’t know all of that already? Cause I do and I’m still here.”  
  
“Then how the hell could you possibly want me for the long haul?”  
  
“How the hell could I not?”  
  
Fear – inviting, rebellious fear – hangs in the air between them like the stars hang in the sky above them.  
  
“You’re my best friend, Becky.”  
  
“An’ that won’t change. We’ll just be… more.” _  
  
_The pretty sky – silver and blue fading to black, the high rise of the early moon and the emergence of the shimmering stars – remind Charlotte of a time when she was younger when she’d thought about painting but didn’t know how and, was in some weird way, afraid of putting anything down on paper incase it couldn’t be forgotten about and not for the right reasons.  
  
The notion that she would be bad at it or that she might create something silly had stopped her from taking the risk and buying paints or going to a class but here’s the thing: sometimes you have to take the risk, sometimes you have to know that yes, you might create something silly but you might not, you might create something magical and as she slips her hand into Becky’s and feels Becky squeeze she knows that sometimes the reward is worth the risk.  
  
Charlotte closes her eyes feeling completely vulnerable. But she’s never been able to refuse making Becky happy and she doesn’t kiss Becky by half when it matters so she takes Becky’s face gently in her hands and then runs her fingers through that bright orange hair, and she likes the feeling of it so much that she does it again.  
  
It is probably because Charlotte loves Becky and can’t get enough of her. That emotion runs deep, like a river that has reached soft earth and can burrow deeper now, build more force behind it.  
  
Becky’s eyes grow wide and shiny and her tongue swipes across her bottom lip reflecting her worry. Then Charlotte frames Becky’s face, holding her just enough to tilt Becky’s head up so that she can lower her mouth with force and decision.  
  
Charlotte likes kisses that are so hard that it makes your bones ache; she likes kisses that are soft so that it makes your heart judder in your chest a little bit and somehow kissing Becky feels like both all at once.  
  
Becky’s hands move to the nape of Charlotte’s neck and then there’s fingernails being dug into her skin and it feels like Becky is hanging on for dear life. Charlotte kisses back harder, wanting more and demanding Becky’s mouth again and again.

Sure, you can’t always make everyone happy, that’s life. Becky tries to tell herself that and kiss through the annoying little voice in her head saying that. Maybe you can’t always make everyone happy but you can _want_ to make certain people happy.  
  
And she wants to make Charlotte happy.  
  
Becky’s lashes flutter like delicate little butterfly wings. “I can make you happy, Charlotte.”  
  
And it is ironic because Becky has captured her heart like cupped hands capture a delicate little butterfly.  
  
“You do.”  
  
“You make me happy too,” Becky admits quietly.  
  
“Do you want to take me home? Well, back to our room.”  
  
“I’ll always wanna take you home,” Becky whispers.  
  
Charlotte presses her forehead against Becky’s and breathes her in and there is still the moon above them, the moon between them. The bond between them that burns and burns and burns much like the moon because Becky has chosen her.  
  
And Charlotte has chosen Becky right back.

-  
  
The morning is gentle and the promise of a new day is kissing her, much like Becky is… Charlotte swallows. Her chest swells in that familiar, slightly overwhelming way, and she makes a small sound that bubbles up from the base of her throat. The current moment is moving, thick and hot, sweet like honey and the only thing messier than their hair is the sheets.  
  
Becky walks her mouth across the bare skin on Charlotte’s back, and as shameless as it is, Charlotte wants to be miles and miles of “oh my fucking God’ for Becky. She wants to be the landscape that is sprawled out before Becky. She wants Becky to find the sunrise at the dip of her hip and at the curve of her breasts and this morning tastes a lot like need rather than want, and Charlotte seems to be waking up specifically for Becky.  
  
There are flowers beginning to bloom from within her bones and forests are starting to emerge in her blood and the sky is rough and wild in her chest, and all she wants is for Becky to steal some of that breath from her lips.  
  
The sun is breaking through the clouds outside and smashing through the balcony door, dripping like raindrops onto Charlotte’s bare flesh and she is waiting for Becky to catch them.  
  
“Are you really mine then?” Charlotte whispers, her voice low because she feels like she knows the answer already but still, it never hurts to get reassurance.  
  
Becky leans down against Charlotte then, nose inbetween her shoulder blades and it is done so tentatively that Charlotte feels herself holding her breath.  
  
“Totally.” Becky’s voice is full of conviction and Charlotte adores it. “I’m yours.”  
  
-

Charlotte slides her hand into Becky’s and pulls her close, Becky’s free arm finding its way around Charlotte’s neck. Charlotte kisses her a second later. Charlotte kisses her greedily and tries to clear her mind of everything except her and Becky.  
  
Maybe she is being stupid but something starts to stir inside of her, a new openness to lean on the tides of the universe instead of swimming like hell against them.  
  
And when she finally pulls back a little, Becky stares at her like someone who has fallen hard. And the part inside of Charlotte, the one that usually tells her to back away or run or to bring the shutters down, doesn’t surface. It stays quiet at the back of her mind like some sort of irrelevance that she doesn’t have to think or worry about.  
  
Instead, Charlotte’s thoughts keep drifting towards Becky and she gets hit with that overwhelming feeling. It sneaks up on her. Slow and stealthy like a wild animal stalking its prey.  
  
She is thinking about Becky and it is an ordinary moment in the grand scheme of things. There is a warm feeling in her stomach and a smile tugging at her lips for absolutely no reason apart from she is thinking about Becky and that moves Charlotte.  
  
And it scares her.  
  
It actually makes her want to stop time altogether.  
  
“I’ve been an idiot, Becky.”  
  
“That’s alright, you’re still smarter than me.”  
  
“An idiot.”  
  
“You were obviously just waiting for someone like me to come along,” Becky says, and despite the fact that she is trying to be casual about it, Charlotte can hear the serious undercurrent to her tone. “An’ then when I did you got a bit scared.”  
  
Charlotte goes quiet for a second before a soft smile flourishes across her face. “I was.”  
  
Becky leans up and presses her lips to Charlotte’s own to stop them from saying anything else, sometimes you need to keep certain things to yourself for a little while longer.  
  
And while Charlotte brings the light to the kiss, Becky is very much the source.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
Then again, sometimes it is just better to say how the fuck you feel because imagine how you’d feel if you didn’t get another chance at it?  
  
“I know.”  
  
“That’s… that’s it?” Becky asks and Charlotte has to hold her laugh in as she nods. “You’re jokin’?”  
  
“I am,” Charlotte concedes after a few beats of silence. “I love you and you’re stuck with me now.”  
  
“Good. I don’t wanna be stuck with anyone else.”  
There is probably a reason why we can’t see love, why it is invisible to the naked eye, why it is undetectable to everything except our own minds. It is probably because we can’t really be trusted with it; we’re not evolved enough. We’d try to engineer it in a certain way, alter it, use it, maybe even weaponise it.  
  
The only way you can really understand love is to feel it and become it and embrace it with whoever that may be.  
  
-

With a slight flick of her wrist, Becky slips her hand into Charlotte’s and decides that she isn’t going to let go until she has to. Charlotte’s hand feels soft but strong against her own, and her fingers fit into the spaces between Becky’s so that they link together properly.  
  
“I still can’t believe you’re a hand holder like this,” Charlotte states quietly as they pull away from the hotel in the car.  
  
“Oh, shut your face and just hold my hand.”  
  
“You know, if we ever get married you’ve already got the nagging part down to a tee, Becky.”  
  
Becky grins and so Charlotte does too.  
  
Charlotte wants to talk after that but she can’t because she is finally letting herself smile as much as she has wanted to all morning, all night, every minute she has spent with Becky really. She is doomed. Like new sneakers that you know are going to get scuffed eventually or your favourite pillow that you know you will have to replace some day.  
  
Totally doomed.  
  
“Am I droppin’ you off or are you coming back to mine?” Becky asks after a while.  
  
“Yours.”  
  
“Good answer.”

  
Charlotte smiles the rest of the way home to Becky’s place because the point of the story isn’t everything that’s gone before, it’s everything that’s still to come next – the risks, the rewards, the laughs, the smiles and the _love_ \- that’s the exciting part.  
  
Because sometimes you have to fall. Sometimes you have to let go. Sometimes you have to take the big risk and throw caution to the wind and leap into the unknown.  
  
But if you’re lucky enough then someone will be ready and waiting to catch you when you do and it will all be worth it.  
  
And when they do finally reach Becky’s apartment Charlotte smiles even harder then because she is finally home.  
  


*****  
  


“… I was supposed to be her fake date for that weekend and then I left that weekend as her actual date. I guess it doesn’t matter how you get here… well it does matter but what I mean is, um…” Becky fires Charlotte a ‘_please help me_’ look and Charlotte finds herself standing, curling her hand around Becky’s waist as she does so.  
  
“I think what Becky is trying to say is that it doesn’t matter how you get to this day with your person as long as you do.”  
  
“That’s why she’s my wife now,” Becky says and everyone around them laughs. “An’ take it from someone who has been married for two whole hours: don’t pretend you don’t have feelings for someone when you do otherwise you might miss out on having this.”  
  
And when Charlotte leans down to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Becky’s words are reaffirmed because who the fuck would want to miss out on this kind of love when you find your person?  
  
Hours later, when they walk along the beach together and take the whole day in, Becky realises that the way the moon belongs to the sea is the same way that Charlotte belongs to her and the way she belongs to Charlotte too.


End file.
